


A Little Less Conversation

by ladyshadowdrake



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Commander Rogers, M/M, Multiverse Shenanigans, Porn with Feelings, Remix, ults!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake
Summary: Maybe being thrown into an alternate universe was not so bad. Not only were there less planet-eating monsters to fight, but Antonio Stark encounters a Steve Rogers with a similar itch to scratch, who's willing to engage in some mutual relief.





	A Little Less Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msermesth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msermesth/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Just for the Conversation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445298) by [msermesth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msermesth/pseuds/msermesth). 



> This is my 2018 Remix for MsErmestH's Just for the Conversation. I loved the original story, and it got me to finally read to Ults. :D
> 
> Thank you to Eak1mouse over on Tumblr for the patient beta'ing, as well as Aurkou and Sineala for help with comic-canon and brainstorming. <3

Tony needed 5 minutes. In a battle, he knew that might as well have been a lifetime, and it was asking for a lot. Still, Steve’s answer to “I need 5 minutes” should have been something better than flying a jet right into Galactus’ _freaking mouth_ , the self-sacrificing bastard. After that, what did it matter if Tony made it out alive? Maybe there were some parts of the world that deserved to be saved, but none of it was _his_ world anymore. He was tired, and _he_ deserved to be done.

So when he actually woke up some indeterminate time later, the first thing that popped into his head was, “ _Fuck you, fucking universe_.”

He was still in the suit, on his back on a concrete floor, staring up at a concrete ceiling that was crisscrossed by exposed pipes. Somewhere there was water dripping on the floor, and the air smelled like mildew. He lifted his head to see if there was anything nearby that he recognized, but it was just concrete and red emergency lights. He let his head thump back to the floor and felt a brief burst of pain at the back of his skull.

Tony started to laugh. He’d beaten cancer and had it come back to chat with him. He’d been stupidly in love with a very straight WWII relic who didn’t like him very much for years, and had watched him get eaten by a world-destroying titan. He’d died to save the world, and he then gets to wake up in a basement with his mouth tasting like stale cotton balls. He lifted a middle finger toward the ceiling.

As if in answer, he heard the shuffle of boots somewhere above him and to his left, accompanied by the murmur of deliberate communication. He recognized the sound immediately as a trained fighter clearing a stairwell. He considered getting up and moving into a defensible position, but it just seemed like so much effort. He waited as the boots thumped down the stairs, and wished he had a drink. It had been a few hours. Or more, depending on how long he’d been unconscious.

The door opened, and Tony’s company came through shield-first.

“Oh,” Tony rasped. Ridiculously, he felt himself relaxing as he recognized the familiar form. Steve, looking ghostly in the light of a glowing shield, was obviously dead. Ergo, Tony was dead. “This makes more sense.”

“…Tony?” Steve said hesitantly. He tilted his head slightly, and said, somewhat nonsensically, “Standby.”

Tony watched him ease down the last few stairs into the room, and mused aloud, “I’ve had a few dreams that started this way.” Maybe it was the last gasp of his brain as he died, one final fantasy for the road. It might also be the much-fabled afterlife, but in that case, Tony was unsure if it was an unexpected reward for being a whole lot better than he’d thought, or if it was a creative punishment for being a whole lot worse than he’d thought.

He levered himself up as Steve cautiously crossed the floor to him. “Did you miss me, darling?”

Steve jolted. “Darling?”

“I’m allowed a few liberties,” Tony assured him. He gestured around to what might or might not be hell’s waiting room. “Considering the circumstances.”

Now that Steve was closer, Tony could see that the uniform was vastly different than Tony was used to, but it looked good on him. Wasn’t that the point? If Tony’s brain had dreamed Steve up, it had done a lovely job with the wardrobe. Looking wary, Steve knelt down next to him and lifted a flashlight. Tony moved out of the bright beam, and snaked a hand under Steve’s arm. Steve jumped, but didn’t immediately decapitate him when Tony boldly set a hand on the inside of his thigh.

“Tony?” Steve tried again, not moving away from the touch, though his voice was strained.

Tony pressed his thumb against the inseam of Steve’s pants and traced it upwards. Steve tumbled backwards, landing flat on his ass with a muffled _oof_. The glowing shield arched over them and clanged to the floor in a burst of light, still clutched in Steve’s grip. Tony’s hips and back and neck and entire existence protested, but he twisted around to follow, crawling in between Steve’s legs and up his body. The Steve he knew, the Steve he’d been quietly, sometimes resentfully, in love with would have punched him in the face by now. This Steve seemed softer somehow.

“So how does this go down?” Tony asked while Steve just stared up at him. “Should I suck you off?” At Steve’s scandalized expression, Tony laughed. “No? I’ve always thought that I could probably hold you down in the suit. Should we try that instead?”

“Tony!” Steve snapped, squirming backwards.

Tony snagged him by the thighs and held him still. “Not so fast, sugarplum.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but stopped and tilted his head as if listening. His uncertain expression twisted into confusion, and then slammed down into anger. The glowing shield came up hard and lightning fast. Tony managed to duck his head down and take the blow mostly on his shoulder, but it still set his ears to ringing. In the next breath, Steve had curled his knees up, and Tony got both heels to the gut. Even through the suit, the impact forced the air out of his lungs. He flew backwards, slid across the floor, and fetched up against a concrete column.

While Steve jumped up to his feet, Tony flopped onto his back and started laughing again. Just his fucking luck. Dream, or after life, or whatever the hell it was, and he gets the Steve that would still rather punch him than fuck him. Typical.

“Who the hell are you? Tony Stark has been confirmed at a board meeting in Manhattan, so you better drop the damn act!” Steve growled, advancing with the shield held up like he was one wrong word from caving Tony’s head in.

Tony’s laughter calmed down to snorts and convulsions. He shifted his weight with the notion of putting his back to the pillar, but his abs and ribs all screamed that staying on the floor was a better idea. He decided to listen. “You know…not that I think hell is real, but who am I to say, given the situation at hand? Still, I had always thought that physical torture would be too mundane for a realm actually dedicated to punishment, so what’s it gonna be? Tell me I’m not really Antonio Stark? Drudge up my old nightmare of the mental institution? Is Greg waiting in the wings to step in? I think I’d _know_ my own twin!” He added in a nasally imitation of his brother’s voice.

Steve didn’t respond. He started making little huffy noises like he was trying to talk, but couldn’t quite figure out what to do with the air he’d taken in. The door opened again, and six figures in combat gear flowed down the stairs and spread out to flank Steve in “V” pattern, training their weapons on Tony and not saying a word.

“Or is it going to be _this_ kind of party?”

A moment passed in strained silence, and then a woman with a lab coat over her bullet-proof vest came into the room. She had a laptop curled in one arm, and was holding a wand out that was connected to the laptop by a curling cord. She didn’t look at Tony, but walked around the room, waving the wand slowly in front of her. Steve kept his eyes on Tony like a particularly ill-tempered bird of prey – Tony almost opened his mouth to call Steve a fluffy bald eagle of Freedom and Justice and The American Way, but ended up just laughing to himself instead.

The woman stopped where Tony had woken up and crouched down to hold the wand about six inches off the concrete. She shuffled forward awkwardly, but Tony had to admire her core strength as she stayed upright while she moved.

“This is definitely the origin of the readings,” she said, and then stood up and walked right over to Tony. The soldiers around Steve moved immediately, clearing her out of their line of fire and rushing forward to make sure Tony didn’t get any ideas about doing something nefarious. Steve took two great steps forward so that he was crowded against her back, glaring down at Tony over her shoulder.

“And he is definitely not from this universe,” she concluded.  

Tony blinked, and then let his breath out in a great sigh. “Oh. Well, that’s certainly less fun than a dying fantasy.”

~*~

Steve had suggested that he wait in one of the anonymous examination rooms, but Tony wasn’t about to be abandoned to the tender mercies of S.H.I.E.L.D agents while Steve was most definitely debriefing his alternate self about Tony’s presence. He slipped the security placed on his room and made his way through the labyrinth of hallways until he turned a corner to see Steve escorting…well, _him_ up to the door. He flashed a smile at the agents who’d been chasing after him, and held the door open for Steve and Anthony while the agents glowered.

Steve blinked at him. “Antonio,” he said, voice a cross between disapproval and discomfort. It seemed that Steve expected to be implicitly obeyed in all universes.

“Oh,” Tony said, smiling his best _come hither_ smile at his counterpart. “It’s me! I love it.” He examined Anthony without making any effort to disguise his curiosity. They were nearly of a height, but it was hard to tell when Anthony was in dress shoes and Tony was in his undersuit.

He’d always supposed that he’d be interested in shoving himself down on the nearest flat surface if he ever occasioned to meet another him. Or that he’d punch the other him in the face. It was nice to know that he could want both simultaneously. Much like Steve, _Anthony_ seemed just a little softer, a little kinder. Anthony wouldn’t have survived Gregory, but Anthony had apparently gotten away without a twin. Maybe he’d been smarter than Tony and eaten his twin in the womb. Anthony’s eyes were the kind of expressive that Tony had worked very hard to grind out of his own reflection, and he showed his shock and reluctant interest clearly when they shook hands.

Tony made a _thing_ out of touching Steve while they talked, and grinned when Anthony’s eyes narrowed in on the not-exactly-casual contact. Tony watched his pupils dilate, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. Steve flushed and Anthony looked away, and it was sickening how gone they were for each other, and almost sweet how oblivious they both were. Judging from the look in Anthony’s face, Tony didn’t think he was even aware of it, and who was Tony to judge? He’d been intentionally blind to more than his fair share of things in the past.

He wondered if he’d ever been that obvious, but he suspected not. His Steve wouldn’t have stood for it.

~*~

Tony had been poked and prodded to within an inch of his life before finally being showed to a simple guest room. The last occupant had kindly stashed half a bottle of cinnamon whiskey under the sink, and apparently it hadn’t been found by anyone else in a long time. The bottle was so caked in dust that Tony had to run it under the faucet to clearly see the label. He took a plastic cup out of the cupboard, toasted the one ‘hidden’ camera that was out more-or-less in the open, and then another that had been concealed in a potted plant. He downed a generous gulp, shuddered through the burn, and set about dismantling the room.

He had a pile of fourteen cameras ranging in size from a dime to a quarter, and three listening bugs. He probably hadn’t gotten them all, but he’d gotten enough to let them know that he _knew_. He threw the whole lot into a pillow case, humming cheerfully to himself as he did, and then tossed it into the suite’s small dryer, and turned it on.

Almost immediately, there was a polite knock on the door. Tony took his time refilling his cup, and then opened the door with a grand gesture. The tech on the other side had the good grace to look embarrassed as she rushed into the room and retrieved the spy gear from the dryer. Steve marched in after her with his arms crossed over his chest, and then four other techs arrived to dig out the rest of their gear. Tony had somehow missed one in a picture frame, and another that had been embedded in the ceiling, but he’d gotten most of them.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said after the techs had hurried out with their gear.

Tony snorted. “Nice show. I’m assuming all of this is to put me at ease so I won’t go looking for whatever spy equipment you didn’t take away?”

Steve frowned. “I ordered them to clean the room.”

“Sure.” Tony offered Steve a plastic cup with a finger of whiskey at the bottom.

To his surprise, Steve took it. He twisted the cup between his fingers, and then ducked his head to take a whiff. “I can’t get drunk,” he said finally, but then knocked it back. He winced at the sharpness of it, a shudder running through his entire frame. It wasn’t exactly top-dollar stuff. “Man, that’s awful.”

Tony laughed, and took another sip. He let the alcohol sit on his tongue until it felt like it had burned all the skin in his mouth off, and then swallowed it deliberately. He watched Steve watching him, and smiled when Steve’s eyes caught on his throat. Tipping his chin up just to be obnoxious, he swallowed again. Steve flushed.

“What can I do for you, Captain – excuse me, Commander?”

Steve said nothing for a long moment, still playing with the plastic cup and it’s lingering few drops of golden-red whiskey. Tony wondered what _his_ Steve would have thought of this version of himself. They looked similar – not identical, but very close. The Steve he knew better maybe had a more prominent jaw, a wider face. Tony thought that he was maybe a touch taller, and a bit broader too, but that could be the effects of the slimming bodysuit. This Steve was still packed with muscle, still looked like he could snap a tree trunk over his knee if he wanted, still looked like Captain America. He wasn’t though, that was someone else in this universe now. There had also never been such a thing as the Ultimates. They’d been called Avengers (God, that was stupid, but so was Ultimates).

“When I first found you…” Steve trailed off uncertainly. That was different. The Steve Tony knew didn’t do uncertain. Tony was pretty sure that Steve’s answer to uncertain was ‘punch it in the face until it dies.’ This Steve’s entire body radiated uncertainty, anxiety, maybe a touch of fear.

Tony realized what was happening like a shock to the back of his neck. He felt his lips spreading in a grin, and considered that maybe all of the spy gear actually _had_ been removed. Slugging back the last of his whiskey, he set the cup on the tiny table, and sauntered across the room. Steve’s eyes widened as he realized that Tony knew what he’d been unable to ask.

“I look enough like someone you can’t have to make it worth your while?” Tony guessed, and just held down a laugh when Steve looked away from him in shame.

Steve covered his mouth with a hand that shook faintly. “I can’t believe I – I shouldn’t be here. Please accept my apologies, this was unforgivable of me – ”

Tony stopped him from running away with a hand on his wrist. “I wasn’t saying _no_.” When Steve froze like a cornered rabbit, Tony just examined him. The resemblance was eerily close. In the darkness, the differences would be unnoticeable. “Seems like we have a similar itch, and maybe a mutual way to scratch it.”

He felt Steve’s faint shudder and loosened his grip. Steve didn’t immediately pull away from him, but he hung his head and breathed slowly through his nose. “Were you… You and – him? Were you?”

Laughter popped out of Tony’s mouth like a gunshot. Steve tensed. His head snapped up and he glared at Tony.

Before Steve could yank away from him, Tony tightened his grip. “No, darling. We certainly were not. Your counterpart would _never_. He wasn’t a _fairy_. I’m pretty sure I would have lost at least my front two teeth if I’d even suggested it.”

“Don’t ever say that word again,” Steve ground out.

Tony thought about pushing him, but didn’t. He shrugged. “Whatever you like, sweetheart. So? Up for a tumble? I can turn out the lights,” he offered, running a hand boldly up Steve’s body from his thigh to his chest. He flicked at the nipple poking against the skin-tight fabric, and Steve hissed a breath through his teeth, automatically pulling back and reaching up with his free hand to rub at his chest.

Using his grip on Steve’s wrist, Tony pulled him forward. Steve’s arm came up around him automatically, and _fuck_ , Steve was _hugging him_. Tony blinked against Steve's shoulder, not sure what to do with the contact. He’d meant to drag Steve into a sloppy kiss, get a hand into his tight suit, and walk him back to the bed. As he stood there indecisively, Steve freed his other hand and reached up to grab the back of Tony’s neck. He scooted in closer until Tony was completely engulfed in his arms, and then leaned down and buried his face against Tony’s neck.

Tony felt his spine turning to liquid as the warmth of Steve’s body penetrated his borrowed clothing. His muscles jumped and twitched in confusion. When was the last time he’d been hugged? He tentatively brought his own arms up to wrap around Steve’s waist. He squeezed gently at first, and then found himself clinging to Steve like a drowning man. Steve shifted his grip until he could bury his hand in Tony’s hair, and turned his face until his nose was nuzzled up under Tony’s ear.

“Sorry,” Steve breathed after a moment. “You just seemed like you could use one.”

If he opened his mouth, Tony was more than half sure that he’d start with the hysterical laughter, so he just curled his body until he could get his lips on Steve’s. Warm, and soft, and unexpectedly sweet, Steve opened up under him. He moaned against Tony’s mouth and pulled him up closer, big hands spreading on Tony’s back, fingers curling in and opening like he was trying knead. Whole new meaning to the term sex kitten.

Letting go of Steve’s waist, Tony wedged his hands between their bodies and pushed sharply. Steve’s back hit the door, and he blinked at Tony in confusion. Tony let him have a few breaths of wondering what the hell was happening before going after him. Their bodies collided, and Steve almost caught him in the groin out of reflex. Unexpectedly charging at a trained soldier, and at a man like Steve, was never a good idea, but it was part of the thrill. Tony knew that Steve could throw him across the room if it came to that, which just made pinning him to the door all the more exciting. Their mouths met again, and Steve finally got with the program. He grabbed the back of Tony’s head hard, using his grip to move Tony’s head into a position he liked. Tony retaliated by biting his lip. He grabbed Steve’s free hand and slammed it against the wall. It was an immediate struggle to keep it there, but it felt good.

When they eventually separated for air, Steve was panting. His pupils had blown open so wide that there was only the thinnest rim of blue around the edges, and his erection pressed hard against the fabric of his suit. Tony boldly put a hand over it and pushed. Steve’s mouth dropped open and he curled his body like he was trying to trap Tony’s hand against him, but then pushed helplessly forward. Tony bit at his ear, and then turned his hand over to use his knuckles to massage Steve’s cock through the fabric. Judging by how little was between them, Tony guessed that he was commando under the uniform, and wasn’t that fun?

Steve’s forehead landed on Tony’s shoulder, and his hands hovered around Tony’s hips like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch, or maybe he’d forgotten that he had hands to begin with. Tony grabbed him by the belt buckle and towed him forward. Steve followed without protest, and, when Tony spun him around and pushed, landed on the bed with a soft huff that was almost obscured by the squeak of the springs. It had been a long time since Tony had fucked someone on a bed that squeaked, and it made him wonder how well they’d soundproofed the room, and who might be on the other side of the walls. Steve scrambled backwards up to the head of the bed, watching Tony with wide eyes.

Tony followed after him slowly, and the moment his knee touched the mattress, Steve’s legs parted without so much as a glance of suggestion. Tony laughed delightedly. Steve’s immediate reaction was to pull his legs together, but Tony reached out and caught him by one knee.

“No, darling. You’re perfect.” He slid into the space between Steve’s thighs, rolling his hips down to press their cocks together. Even through the clothing, it felt almost shockingly good. Steve’s thighs closed around him and squeezed his still-sore ribs. The dull pain was probably a good thing. “This is what you want, hm?” He shoved against Steve deliberately, just to hear the bed creak and slam into the wall. Steve made a noise somewhere between a groan a whimper.

“Of course,” Tony continued, putting just enough weight on his knees that he could get to Steve’s belt, “You’d prefer if it was _him_.”

Steve looked up at him sharply, but his legs tightened further like Tony might be trying to escape. Tony laughed again, and leaned forward to bite at Steve’s neck while he tugged the belt away and got the zipper open. He wanted to make a comment about how unpractical body suits were for day to day use, but Steve wore it so damn well that Tony couldn’t complain. He got a hand around Steve’s cock and pulled it out a little too roughly. Steve hissed, but pressed readily up against him.

“What is that you want from him, hm?” Tony wondered, stroking Steve almost idly. He leaned forward enough to lick a stripe up Steve’s neck. “You want him to peel you out of this uniform?” He left Steve’s erection laying on his belly, and wedged a hand behind him to get to the zipper. What a gloriously useless uniform. Steve curled forward to give him access and let Tony pull it off his shoulders.

Tony left the suit half undone, trapping Steve’s arms against his sides. He bit into the swell of Steve’s left pectoral, and sucked hard at the skin until he tasted the tinge of blood. Steve held his breath through it, though Tony could feel him shaking under the strain, and wondered what it felt like to be that sensitive. As soon as Tony let him go, he gasped in a breath and struggled against the hold of his uniform. Tony reached down to grab him again, and grinned at how hard he was. Steve’s chest blushed a brilliant red.

“You want him to mark you?” Tony guessed. “Claim you?”

Steve’s jaw clenched. He met Tony’s eyes defiantly. “And what is it that you want? To hold _him_ down? Fuck him raw?”

Tony felt himself twitch. He let go of Steve’s cock and dragged his knuckles down to press at the fabric covering Steve’s ass. The muscle fluttered against his finger as he pushed forward. Steve gasped.

“Seems like our wants are compatible.” 

Steve shuddered and closed his eyes.  His head dropped back against the headrest, and he pressed his hips forward, turning his face away from Tony. That was fine. He looked more like the right Steve in profile anyway. Tony pulled back enough to work him out of the rest of the suit. Steve held onto the headboard and rolled his hips by way of helping. Tony watched the way he moved, and tried to imagine Steve sliding out of the suit like that every night, brushing his hands down his body as he pushed the fabric out of the way. Maybe Tony would ask for a show sometime. He considered leaving Steve’s boots, and letting the tight fabric act as shackles, but it might get as much in his way as Steve’s. He threw the whole mess of the uniform over the side of the bed and bit his way back up Steve’s body.

“If getting fucked is what you want, I hope you came prepared for it,” Tony prompted when he’d made it to Steve’s hip. He licked a broad stripe up Steve’s cock and only got a gasp for a response.

“You threw it off the bed,” Steve said between heavy breaths once Tony had let him go.

“That was silly of me,” Tony said, and crawled backwards off the mattress. He took a detour to refill his cup, and let Steve watch him drink it. The last of his headache had faded into a dull pressure behind his eyes, and the persistent ache in his joints and spine was fast on the way to joining it. He took his time stripping out of the borrowed clothing. He knew what he looked like, and he knew that he was covered shoulders-to-knees in bruises, but who knew? For someone like Steve, that might be a plus.

He heard Steve’s startled inhale and amended the thought to maybe for someone like _his_ Steve it would be a plus. He stifled a laugh at himself, at Steve, at how pitiful they both were for what they were doing. It wasn’t like he was going to stop unless – until – Steve told him ‘enough.’

“Tony, we don’t have to –”

“Steven, darling,” Tony interrupted. He tilted his head back so he could see Steve on the bed, brows furrowed and looking adorably concerned for Tony’s health. “You’ll realize very quickly that I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to.” He fished a tube of lube and a string of four condoms out of Steve’s discarded belt pouches, and looked up to give him a playful smile. He let the condoms unroll and waved them about. “You were sure optimistic this evening.”

Steve cleared his throat and blushed, squirming uncomfortably on the bed, though Tony noticed his cock twitch with interest as he did. “Preparation is very important. Tony, I really don’t want to hurt you. You look like you’ve been through a cement tumbler full of rocks.”

Tony didn’t mention that, impact gel or not, he probably looked like he’d been in the rock-filled cement mixer more often than not. He reached over and flicked off the lights, plunging them into near total darkness interrupted only by the faint glow of a few electronic clocks. Tony noted absently that he would have to put tape over all of them later if he wanted to get any sleep.

Grinning, Tony said, “Problem solved.”

They fumbled together in the darkness, Steve’s hands skating carefully over Tony’s body like he was looking for each of the bruises. Under the alcohol, the pressure of his touch on each sore spot felt almost good, but he wasn’t in the mood to be coddled. He finally knocked Steve’s hands away, and leaned out of his reach.

“This’ll be cold,” he warned. He could have taken the time to warm it between his hands, but he didn’t. Steve gasped at the first touch of the lube – not all that cold, it had been in his pocket after all – and then held his breath as Tony pushed his middle finger slowly past the ring of muscle. Steve’s body clamped around him like a vise, so tight that Tony felt the circulation cut off to the finger. He twisted his wrist, curled his finger just right, and Steve let out an explosive breath, somehow clamping even harder around him. Steve’s hips thrust up automatically, and he threw one arm over his face.

“You have done this before?” Tony asked, holding still while Steve made tiny, jerky motions on his finger. He obliged Steve by pressing upwards again, and enjoyed the resulting shudder.

“Y-es,” Steve panted when he remembered to answer Tony’s question. “Just not for a while.”

Good enough. Tony put a hand on his pelvis to hold him down to the bed, moved into a position that would put less strain on his forearm, and went to work. Steve was fantastically responsive, his entire body twisting and pushing while Tony worked two, and then three fingers into him.

“Look at you,” Tony rasped, surprised by the huskiness in his own voice. “You love this.”

“I do,” Steve moaned. “God, I do. More, please. Please.”

“I could probably put my whole fist in you.”

A ripple went through Steve’s body, legs and arms moving restlessly. He moaned, arched his back, pushed down harder on Tony’s fingers. “I - … yes.”

“But not tonight,” Tony decided, pulling his hand away and wiping his sticky fingers on the bedspread. Steve made a sound of pure mourning, not exactly a keen, but almost a sob. The truth was that Tony was tired, mellowed by the whiskey, and his knees were burning slightly under him. If there was another night, he would be better prepared, ready to spend hours taking Steve Rogers apart, but not after the day he’d had. He squeezed most of what remained in the tube into his hand and slicked himself roughly, and then gave himself another few pulls when the sound made Steve groan and push closer to him. An interesting reaction for another evening.

Tony guided Steve’s hips into his lap, lined himself up by feel, and pressed into the welcome heat. Steve wrapped his legs around Tony’s back and pulled insistently, huffing out his breath in short, fast pants that sounded a whole heck of a lot like _Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony_.

Holding onto Steve’s thighs for leverage and leaning back into the cradle of the calves locked tightly around him, Tony gave an experimental upwards thrust that made Steve shout. The bedsprings creaked loudly. Tony grinned, hoped someone important was in the next room (maybe even his counterpart, though that was unlikely), and set up a fast rhythm that he knew would get him off quickly.

Steve surprised them both by coming, untouched, almost immediately, and Tony stuttered to a messy halt while Steve shuddered and clenched around him. Tony held onto Steve’s thighs and tried to think very unsexy thoughts while Steve rode through an orgasm so powerful it almost sounded like he was choking on his own breath.

“That’s flattering,” Tony decided after a long minute.

“Just – Oh, God – Give me. A minute. Two, maybe,” he panted, words interrupted by aftershocks.

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him, but found himself petting Steve comfortingly, hands running up and down his thighs. The pressure of Steve’s grip on his sides was starting to hurt, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He let Steve come down from what sounded like a truly fantastic experience, regretting turning out the lights. Steve’s breath finally calmed down to soft gasps, and his grip relaxed enough for Tony to feel like he could breathe steadily again. Tony was ready to slip out of him, but Steve shifted down, adjusted the position of his legs, and to Tony’s everlasting wonder, reached down and took himself in hand. In a few strokes, he was encouraging Tony to move again.

“Oh,” Tony said lowly, “oh, I am going to have _fun_ with you, Steve Rogers.”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, and Tony found his rhythm again. He pushed Steve through another orgasm, but didn’t stop to let him calm down again, and Steve rewarded him with loud curses as he reached up to grab the headboard. Tony started cursing himself, and the whiskey, as Steve built up a third time and was starting to sound a little frantic and over-sensitive.

“There it is,” Tony groaned when he finally felt his own orgasm building like slow fire between his legs. “Fuck, Steve. Stay like that, just –” Steve obligingly held himself at the same angle, his hand working over his cock in fast jerks while he clenched tighter and tighter for a third time.

Tony’s breath caught in his throat as his orgasm rippled through him. His hips took on a life of their own, snapping forward once, twice, and then shoving hard a third time and locking into place against the curve of Steve’s ass. Steve came again, all but sobbing through it, body twitching weakly in time with the pulses.

“Oh,” Steve breathed as they both came down. “Oh, that was nice.”

Tony tried to laugh, but his throat felt like it had been rubbed raw. “Nice,” he agreed finally. It took several moments to convince himself that pulling back would be ultimately better than staying where he was. He held onto the condom and gasped as Steve’s body reluctantly released him. He just barely managed to tip his weight so that he fell alongside Steve on the creaky bed, rather than collapsing directly on top of him.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said as he slowly stretched his legs out. “Antonio,” he corrected.

Tony winced. No one had called him Antonio in years, and it would take some getting used to. “Tony’s fine. When we’re alone like this.” He waited a breath for Steve to protest the idea that 'this' was anything more than a one-time deal. “Provided that you’d like to be alone like this again.”

Steve was quiet for several seconds, and then rolled onto his side and nuzzled against Tony’s shoulder. He set a gentle kiss to Tony’s neck. “I think that could be arranged. For as long as you’re here.”

Tony snorted. Like he was really going back to ‘his’ universe, even if they were able to find a way to open a portal. There was nothing back there for him, and day one in the new universe, he already had someone in his bed who was enthusiastically happy to be there, and also handed out orgasms like candy. What did it matter if he was a stand in for a version of himself who was obviously a better man than he?

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” Steve asked after a moment of silence.

“Technically it’s _your_ shower, Commander,” Tony pointed out.

“We’ll get you a place off-base if you want. At least until we can get you home.”

Tony sat up, and patted Steve lightly on the thigh. “Home. Let’s just call this home for now, shall we, darling?” He pushed himself out of the wet mess of the bed, and crossed to the bathroom before Steve could ask him any pressing questions. He turned back at the door, reaching around the frame to turn the light on. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Steve hesitated for a long moment, but then rolled upright to a chorus of creaking springs, and stood. He crossed the room, and even with the heat gone and the light on, Steve still stopped at his side and wrapped Tony up in his arms. They shared a leisurely kiss, and Tony didn’t even bother to tease him that he was wasting his affection on the wrong Tony. He closed his eyes, and took a moment to breathe against Steve’s lips and pretend that they were both there for each other.

 

 

 


End file.
